Sweet Nothingness
by Skaz Wolfman
Summary: Technically a self-insert fic, but NOT by any means your typical self-insert. A (sort of) self-insert fic that respects the fact that the canon characters have personalities of their own and probably wouldn't like to have their home invaded by an outsider from the real world. Also crammed full of possibly-offensive crack humor, but no slash. Ye, who dare enter, have been warned.
1. A Stranger Walks Among Us

Disclaimer: First off, the standard, done in the style of my heroes over at Team Four Star; the following is a non-profit fan-based parody. Kingdom Hearts is intellectual property of Tetsuya Nomura, copyright of Disney and developed by Square Enix. Please support the official release.

Secondly, a more specific disclaimer for my fellow fanfiction frequenters. Or fanfic freqs, as I like to call them. Heh, see what I did there? Anyways, I just want to declaratively state here and now, for posterity, that this isn't intended as 'wish fulfillment' or anything like that. This is me writing a self-insert fic so that I can troll some fictional characters because I'm bored right now. In point of fact, this is my first self-insert fic ever, something I swore I was never going to do. But, well…bored. Nothing prompts me to violate my own sacred oaths as easily as sheer bouncing-my-head-off-the-wall boredom. My hope is that my boredom might spawn something that someone else somewhere on the other side of the Interwebs might just find an amusing distraction from their own boredom. If you don't like what you read here, that's okay. Just find something else to read. I apologize in advance for wasting your time. If you plan on leaving a nasty, flame-ish review, let me preempt you right now by saying that I really don't care. This is not intended as a serious story; this is just some harmless escapism to stave off my oppressive suburban doldrums. If you'd actually like to leave some _useful_ feedback and good-naturedly critique my writing style, I'm all ears. Bring it on, I'll eat that $#1% with chocolate syrup and a grin. So…yeah, let's strap in, shall we? Just remember, this is all in the name of good clean fun. And also dirty fun. Probably also some more fun of indeterminate hygienic quality.

And we're off!

 **Chapter One – A Stranger Walks Among Us.**

Before we begin, dear reader, we must debunk a few commonly-held beliefs about those most strange and existentially perplexing creatures known as 'Nobodies'. A Nobody, as we well know, is the self-reanimated remains of one who has lost their heart. In other words, the soul, the body, and–typically–the memories. The most important part of that list, for the purposes of this conjecture, is the _body_. That presumably includes the squishy inner bits called organs that presumably require nourishment to function. Now, we need not assume that Nobodies _need_ to eat, seeing as they are said to be living violations of the very Order of Nature, which is the very quality that grants them their reality-distorting powers. After all, how else could a collection of unrepentantly evil–or in some cases, merely amoral–and emotionless fictional characters earn the love and adoration of so many people here in the real world, unless they had some kind of power to destroy physics and probability with their mere presence, not unlike the supernatural ability of babies to reduce almost anyone, even hard-ass lumberjack types, to a gibbering mass of incoherent cooing?

Basically what I'm getting at is that while it's possible that the Nobodies of Organization XIII may no longer need to eat, as many believe, it is most certain that they still can, if they wish to. And given that they have memories of being human, and most humans are quite unabashedly _obsessed_ with food, I like to think it's quite probable that most of the members of the Organization would continue to eat, if only as a matter of habit. After all, we know at least two or three Nobodies who very much enjoy ice cream, and seeing as ice cream is a diary product it is indeed 'food', regardless of what the health nuts say otherwise.

And so it is that we find our favorite Nobodies gathered around a long banquet table in the Dining Hall of Insert-Adjective-For-'Nothing'-Here, deep within the Bowels That Never Were of the Castle That Never Was, hovering over the Dark City That Was Actually Not That Dark What With All The Flashing Neon Signs, on the World That Never Was. More specifically, it was through the second door on the left down the Hallway That Didn't Go Anywhere from the Bathroom That Was Actually Somewhere Else. Xemnas, naturally, sat at the head of the table. On Xemnas's right sat Xigbar, then Vexen, then Zexion, then Axel, then Luxord, and finally Larxene. The Gambler of Fate lamented his ill fortune at being seated next to the Savage Nymph, but he did his lamenting silently, as he was not nearly as stupid as his obsession with games of chance might lead some to believe. On Xemnas's left sat Xaldin, then Lexaeus, then Saïx, then Demyx, then Marluxia, then Roxas. No one sat at the end opposite Xemnas, and Xion sat on a little three-legged stool next to Roxas, with a TV dinner tray in her lap. When she questioned this, Xemnas and Saïx shared a conspiratorial look before the Superior replied, "It's your 'special treatment', Number Fourteen."

Now, generally the members of the Organization didn't sit down to eat together like this. Usually they all had their own eating cycles, if they ate at all; some preferred not to, and some only ate whenever the mood struck them rather than adhere to a schedule. Tonight, however, was the exception; it was the anniversary of the Organization's inception. The tenth anniversary, to be specific. There was even a huge, thirteen-tier Devil's Food cake with silver icing and ten candles that, due to Demyx being put in charge of Candle Procurement, were shaped like miniature Tiki Torches. Xemnas privately thought the cake was unnecessary, but Xigbar had insisted, and he could be such a whiner when he didn't get his cake. Xaldin had mockingly suggested that they have Larxene pop out of the cake and sing "Happy Birthday, Mr. Superior." On a completely unrelated note, Xaldin was sitting on an ice-pack and had no intention of opening his damn fool mouth for the rest of the evening.

The Organization had powered their way through a scrumptious five-course meal prepared by a certain French chef Axel had abducted from Atlantica for the evening, and they were all enjoying (or rather not, since joy is an emotion, but you know what I meant) a slice of cake, when suddenly something occurred that would forever redefine the very fate of the Organization, and perhaps the entire Kingdom Hearts universe. Or at least the artificial iteration of the Kingdom Hearts universe created to house this particular fanfiction, but let's not get bogged down by semantics, shall we?

Without any warning, other than a distant sound of maniacal cackling so faint and indistinct that no one who heard it could be entirely certain that they had, in fact, heard anything, a stained glass window that hadn't been there the previous instant shattered dramatically, and a small round something sailed through the air before hitting the table. It bounced once, high enough to clear what was left of the cake, and then bounced a few more times before gently rolling to a stop right in front of Xemnas. It was a Golden Delicious apple. Lexaeus noticed this, and the elegantly inscribed writing on it, and immediately felt an immense feeling of unease seize his non-being. But only in the intellectual sense, of course.

"Oooooookay…where did that window come from?" asked Xigbar. "Guys, I'm not the only one who never noticed that window before now, right?"

"There definitely wasn't a window there just a second ago," agreed an equally befuddled Saïx.

"Is this some kind of prank, Number Six?" asked Vexen.

"Why, just because I'm the resident Illusionist it must be my fault whenever something inexplicable appears?" asked Zexion. "That's profiling and I resent it."

"It was a fair question, Zexion," said Lexaeus, who still had his eye on the apple as if it were a small piece of nuclear ordnance.

"No, it wasn't. Just because I have the ability to make people see things that aren't there does not mean I have any predilection for playing pranks on people. Personally I find pranking to be a complete waste of time," said Zexion.

"This is why no one likes you, Bangs," said Larxene, who was already bored with the marvel of the inexplicable broken window and was helping herself to a second slice of cake. She had also slipped a third and fourth slice into her coat pockets while everyone else was watching Xemnas pick up and examine the apple.

"Not so. No one likes me because the only people I spend any time with are incapable of liking anything," countered Zexion.

"And that's the _other_ reason no one likes you," added Marluxia.

"If Zexion didn't do it," said Vexen in a tone that indicated he was expecting a headache to arrive any second now, "then I fear–figuratively speaking, of course–that this may have something to do with…quantum."

"Quantum?" asked Xaldin, who was too curious about the mysterious apple to remember his resolution to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the evening.

"Yes. Quantum. My old nemesis," growled Vexen, "It's the very worst affront to decently rational science. Quantum thinks it can just do whatever the hell it pleases without any regard for consistency or even causality. The only thing I metaphorically despise more than quantum itself are the foolish quantum physicists who insist on propagating the nonsense by using it as a justification for their half-baked crack-pot theories."

Somewhere in the multiverse and several decades in the past, Wilhelm Heisenberg (as in Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, not Breaking Bad) burst into terribly angsty tears for no apparent reason. He promptly blamed it on Quantum. He then wrote about it in a letter to his good friend and fellow quantum physicist Wolgang Pauli, Jr. who suggested he talk to _his_ good friend, noted psychologist Carl Jung. Now that I've firmly established my Hopeless Nerd Cred, let's get back to the story, shall we?

Xemnas, having followed the spiraling line of text carved into the apple back to its beginning, cleared his throat to get his fellows' attention, put on a pair of reading glasses because the print was so tiny, and began to read it, "It says, 'To my esteemed colleagues in Organization XIII. I have, in the interest of alleviating my own boredom, written down a number of zany ideas and put them in a hat, and then pulled one out at random. To your immense, if questionable, fortune, I wound up drawing "Go and show Organization XIII a lovely time". I am sending this Apple of Chaos as a friendly forewarning of my impending arrival. It is my sincerest wish that we can all get along for the duration of my visit. Failing that, we could always go the traditional route and start out antagonistic of each other, growing progressively more hostile as time goes on and our personality quirks coupled with various unfortunate occurrences resulting from miscommunication and sheer dumb rotten luck cause us to become steadily more aggravated with each other, until everything comes to a head and we nearly kill each other only to be interrupted by a serious calamity that we band together to resolve, bringing us to realize that we have actually become dear friends, at which point I will have to leave and we have a tearful parting that will hopefully be accompanied by the sublime orchestrations of Danny Elfman, leaving everyone in the audience bawling their eyes out. Unfortunately, seeing as most of you have no hearts and are devoid of emotion, my chances of that happening are pretty shitty. Nevertheless, I will doggedly try any…' and then it just stops."

No sooner had the Superior said that then another apple, this one a Granny Smith that had been painted gold because I couldn't find another Golden Delicious in the pantry, came crashing through another hitherto non-existent cathedral-quality stained-glass window. Xemnas picked it up and read, "This one says, 'ways. I will arrive promptly and punctually, precisely three beats after you finish reading the second apple. Yours most sincerely, the Grand Disorganizer of the Disenfranchised Congregation of Daydreaming Strays, Uncle Skaz. No relation.'"

Three 'beats' of utterly confuzzled silence followed this, and just as Xigbar opened his mouth to ask, "What the f–", he was preemptively interrupted by the arrival of…me.

One of the walls in the dining hall, the fourth one to be specific, was abruptly shattered by a steam locomotive bursting through. The black locomotive was the kind you see in Old West movies, and the word "PLOT" was stamped on either side of it in big blocky white lettering, and it was quite literally off the rails. If that wasn't an apt metaphor for the rest of this literary buffoonery that was about to ensue, then I don't know what is. Fortunately, all fourteen members of Organization XIII were able to dash out of the way and avoid being struck by the locomotive. All except, ironically, Larxene, as she was severely weighed down by all the cake she had stuffed into her mouth and her coat pockets while everyone else had been diligently listening to their Superior's reading. As such, Larxene was sent flying into the far wall, which being opposite to the fourth wall was naturally the second wall. Fortunately, all of the cake stuffed into her coat provided a convenient cushion, so no serious harm was done…to the wall, that is.

The locomotive discharged a great cloud of steam with a high-pitched whistling sound, and then deafening silence ensued. Some other oxymorons too, perhaps, but none important enough to mention.

Another silence followed. At least two beats worth this time. Just as Xemnas was about to suggest destroying the damn thing, a fifteen-year-old girl wearing yellow coveralls and a railroad engineer's cap stuck her head out of the locomotive window and said, "CHOO! CHOO! We've pulled in to our station. All ashore that's going ashore, and thank you for riding the Plot Derailing Express. Selphie out!" She then stuck her head back in and began preparing the train for departure. A door opened, and rap music blasted out,

" _What is a Juggalo? Let me think for a second,"_

" _Oh. He get's butt-naked,"_

" _And then he walks through the streets winking at the freaks,"_

" _With a two-liter stuck in his butt cheeks."_

" _What is a Juggalo? He just don't care,"_

" _He might try to put a weave in his nut hair,"_

" _Cuz he could give a fuck less what a bitch thinks,"_

" _He tell her that her butt stinks, an' all that."_

" _What is a Juggalo? He drinks like a fish,"_

" _Then he starts hugging people like a drunk bitch,"_

" _Next thing he's picking fights with his best friends,"_

" _Then he starts with the hugging again, fuck."_

" _What is a Juggalo?"_

" _A fucking lunatic,"_

" _Somebody with a rope tied to his dick,"_

" _Then he jumps out a ten-story window,"_

" _Ohhhhh…"_

" **What is a Juggalo?"**

" **A Juggalo. That's what it is, well fuck if I know."**

" **What is a Juggalo?"**

" **I don't know but I'm down with the clown and I'm down for life, yo."**

"What the hell is that music!?" cried out Demyx, whose ears yearned for the sweet embrace of death. As the song had progressed, a thick blanket of fog had poured out of the train's open door and spread out across the floor. Then as "What is a Juggalo?" reached its chorus, out stepped a figure in an electric-blue version of the instantly recognizable Organization's Coat. Emblazoned on the back of the coat was a red silhouette of a man with wild hair running with a hatchet in one hand.

"Dear sweet Nothingness," swore Luxord in shock and dismay, "We're being invaded by _Juggalos_! Quickly, we must hide our virgins!" He quickly grabbed Roxas and Xion and shoved them under Lexaeus's coat.

"Everyone, weapons out!" ordered Xemnas, conjuring his own snazzy red lightsabers. Everyone except for the hidden Keyblade wielders armed themselves and struck appropriately dramatic poses, all of them ready to die fighting for their non-existences.

"Whoa, whoa! Hold on, guys!" shouted the stranger, his voice unmistakably male. It was deep, but not in a sexy way, unfortunately. More like a not-as-nasally Napoleon Dynamite kind of deep. "I'm not that kind of Juggalo, alright? I'm a pacifist…mostly. Within reason. I'm not here to fight, okay? I'm just here to chill." The stranger pulled back his hood, revealing his white, surprisingly not-painted face, his brown eyes and a curly mop of brown hair that was pulled back into a mid-length and very puffy ponytail. He had a thin moustache and some chin hair that was too thick to be called stubble but not quite thick enough to really be called a beard, either. Perched upon his nose were a pair of rectangle-framed eyeglasses that, after having gotten used to them, he had realized looked a bit dorkier than he had thought when he was picking them out at the optometrist's. Oh well, c'est la vie. "Sorry, guys. That wasn't even supposed to be my intro music. It was supposed to be "Cleveland Rocks" by The Presidents of the United States of America. Don't know _how_ I got the CDs mixed up."

"You mean the theme song to the Drew Carrey Show?" asked Demyx.

"Yeppers."

""London Rocks" is way better," said Demyx.

"Number Nine, if I wanted any lip out of you I'd rattle my zipper," the stranger snapped.

"BURN!" shouted Axel, cackling gleefully.

"Shut up, Axel! You're not Kelso," said Larxene.

"And thank Nomura I'm not," said the redhead, "Because then I'd have to date a massive bitch like you."

"Why the hell are we making pop culture references to things that don't exist in our universe?" asked Xaldin.

"Oh _God_ , we're in another fanfiction, aren't we?" groaned Larxene.

"Oh, yeah. My fault," said the stranger, raising his hand sheepishly. "I got _suuuuuuuuper_ bored, so I decided to take this universe for a joyride."

"How?" demanded Xaldin.

"I'm one of the only beings with more reality-warping capability than even a Nobody possesses," the stranger replied smugly.

"You mean you're Haruhi Suzumiya?" asked Vexen.

"Uh…no, but you're close. I'm an Author. Name's Skaz. Wassup, homeslizzles?"

"Hold on!" said Axel, who had surreptitiously joined Zexion behind Lexaeus's hulking frame. "I've heard of these things. He's one of those weird people who like to screw around with our personalities and make us act out their yaoi fantasies!"

"You sick bastard!" snapped Xaldin.

"Shut up, Braids; you're one of the cheapest bosses in video game history," Skaz grumbled irritably. "And I'm not _that_ kind of Author. I'm just here to hang out with some of my favorite bad guys, you know? Do some chillin' with some villains. Pretend I'm one of the cool kids for a while. Mostly, I'm just _bored_. I know you guys are all emotionless and shit but c'mon, even you can understand the sheer mind-numbing, soul-crushing existential horror that is Boredom in the 'Burbs, can't you? Before I started writing this I literally spent thirty-seven minutes staring at the wall thinking up anagrams for 'eggplant'. Couldn't think of any, by the way."

"Hmm…yeah, I don't trust this guy, dudes," said Xigbar, who had both Sharpshooters aimed at Skaz's eyes. "He's all kinds of shifty. And trust me, I know a thing or two about shifty."

"We need to get rid of him, before he turns us all into one-dimensional caricatures of ourselves," said Lexaeus, who dreaded that his own vocabulary would be the first casualty.

"Not that kind of Author!" Skaz snapped.

"Sorry, but self-inserts simply can't be trusted," said Saïx coldly.

"You always promise to coexist harmoniously," said Xemnas, "But it will only be a matter of time before you go full Gary Stu on us and make us all treat you like our best friend."

"Not. That. Kind. Of. Author," Skaz ground out. "Come on, you guys aren't even going to give me a chance to prove my benign intentions?"

Roxas poked his head out of Lexaeus's coat and said, "He's got a point. We don't even know him. Why don't we give him the benefit of the doubt?"

Xion also poked her head out and added, "It would be nice to have a guest, wouldn't it? Besides, if he writes us a good review we could get a lot of tourism through here."

"Why the hell would we _want_ tourism here?" asked Xaldin.

"Well, some good PR might actually be a boon for us at this point," mused Marluxia, "Now that that Sora kid is running around righting wrongs and saving the day and fighting for truth, justice, and the Disney way, our days are pretty much numbered if we can't turn our rep around."

"Exact-a-mundo!" Skaz shouted, giving the Graceful Assassin an unironic thumb-up, "With my help, you guys can become respectable! The Kingdom Hearts fandom already adores you guys…well, most of you guys…so imagine how much your power and influence would grow if you could get your own universe on your side? You could be _UNSTOPPABLE!_ "

"Wait, you want to _help_ us?" asked Xemnas, "Why?"

"Uh…boredom?" said Skaz, "Have I not hammered that point home yet? I need _something_ to do with my free time or I'll start bouncing my head off the walls."

"Can't get a girlfriend, huh?" asked Larxene with her nastiest smirk.

"I am, in fact, single by choice, thank you," said Skaz stiffly.

"Yeah, suuuuuuuure you are," said Larxene.

"And you're going to alleviate your boredom by joining forces with an organization of," Xemnas glanced at Roxas and Xion and put a hand next to his mouth so they wouldn't see him mouth the word 'evil-doers'.

"If the Apples of Chaos and my profession as Grand Disorganizer of the Disenfranchised Congregation of Daydreaming Strays, Uncle Skaz, no relation, wasn't a big enough tip…I'm a Discordian. In the face of crippling boredom, morality is a pretty flimsy reason to pass up a golden opportunity to make merry mischief," Skaz explained.

"What's a Discordian?" asked Roxas.

"It's a fake religion that some people invented to mock the concept of religion," explained Saïx.

"Ah…and religion is…?" Roxas asked next.

"Something people use as an excuse to kill each other," quipped Axel.

"Hey, let's not bash religion, okay?" suggested Skaz, "It's actually really important to some people. And, for the record, Discordianism isn't fake. Not to me, at least. Anyways, I don't want to piss off and scare away _all_ the readers with the very first chapter."

"You made your intro with an _ICP_ song," Demyx pointed out once more.

"Oh don't be a pussy, Dem," scoffed Larxene, "There's nothing wrong with getting a little wicked on."

"I think the fact that _you're_ defending his taste in music says a lot more than Nine's questionable opinions ever could," snarked Marluxia.

"Yeah, please don't stick up for me, Buzzy-Bee," said Skaz. "That's worse than getting a political endorsement from Dubya."

Selphie's locomotive started blowing steam again and began to slowly reverse. "Quick!" shouted Xigbar, "Stuff him back onto his train before it leaves!"

"Wait, hold on!" Skaz protested, but it was no use. All fourteen members of Organization XIII mob-rushed him and threw him back into the train, slamming the door shut behind him. Roxas aimed his Keyblade at the train and sealed the door. Soon, the train sped backwards off-screen and out of the fic, taking the offensive self-insert with it. Or so they all thought.

"Alright, everyone out," the Superior of the In-Between ordered, "I'm going to send this entire room straight into the Void, and we will never again speak of what happened here today."

"Sounds good to me…shit," said Axel as he opened the door.

Skaz, having traded his coat for a Hawaiian-print shirt, a pair of cargo shorts, and a pair of loafers, was leaning in the doorway. He pulled a Golden Delicious apple out of his pocket, took a huge bite out of it with his beaver teeth, and quipped, "Eh, what's up, Doc?"

And the chorus refrained, _**"What is a Juggalo? I don't know but I'm down with the clown and I'm down for life, yo."**_

A/N: I…feel compelled to apologize, even though I already apologized in advance. Way back when I first started writing fanfics years ago, I swore I was never EVER going to dabble in that most controversial genre, the Self-Insert Fic. But here I am, breaking that oath, in the name of Parody. Let me emphasize here to the umpteenth degree: this is not a 'real' Self-Insert Fic, this is a Self-Insert Parody. And like a true parody, it is written in the name of honest funtimes. I don't really hate Self-Inserts or their writers. I do believe it can be done well, and in fact some of my friends have pointed me to some well-written Self-Inserts in the past. But as a whole, it's not a genre I generally enjoy, because I like to read fics about the characters I've grown to love, not about real people unsatisfied with their lot in life and escaping it by writing themselves into their favorite stories. But here again, I know it's not always like that and I'm not hating. You are all beautiful, God-blessed creatures and I love you without exception. You do you, baby. This here is just me having some fun to escape my boredom, and poke fun. At Kingdom Hearts, at Organization XIII, at pop culture, at politics, and of course at myself. Yes, my self-insert, 'Skaz' (a nickname of mine. Please don't ask) is going to give the Organization some serious hell for shits and giggles, because I'm bored. And I know damn well a few of you lovely sickos get your kicks from schadenfreude or however it's spelled. But I'll do my best to keep things even and make sure Skaz gets as good as he gives. It wouldn't be fun if it were all one-sided, after all. I wouldn't have fun writing it, and you wouldn't have fun reading it. Just, uh, don't expect them to get rid of me–I mean, _him_ , any time soon. And also, if the ICP song offended you don't worry. I'm not going to do that again…or at least, not very often.

One last item and then I'm done. If you made it all the way to this bottom line without walking out, with or without flipping a table on the way, then let me say this once. THANK YOU, from the bottom of my black, withered heart. Seriously, everyone who made it this far, or even halfway through, deserves a million snickerdoodles or the cookie of your choice. The only reason I share this crap online is because I hope it'll make someone laugh. Be sure to give me _lots_ of yummy feedback, because the more I know about what y'all like and what y'all don't, the more fun I can make this Parody Experiment for everyone involved. Useful critiques of my writing or suggestions for future chapters would be especially appreciated, but really just anything to let me know that someone saw this and maybe had a somewhat positive response to it will completely and totally make my day. Good night, I love y'all, stay beautiful, tip your waiter on your way out, drive safe, and don't pick up any hitchhikers unless they're _really_ sexy looking…or if it's me. It's been a while since I put any gas in my moped.

Author Out, Yo.


	2. Earning Your Place In Strange Company

_Last time on_ Sweet Nothingness _, the Organization's tenth-anniversary dinner banquet was disrupted by a couple of apples and a steam locomotive, which disgorged a Wandering Juggalo, and worse yet, a Self-Insert of the Author! The Organization successfully forced the Demon back onto his train as it withdrew, and then moved to leave the dining hall so that Xemnas could totally obliterate it. To their misfortune, however, the Self-Insert pulled some Looney Tunes crap and appeared on the other side of the exit door. That sassy tool even bit into an apple and dropped an irreverent "What's up Doc" to lampshade all of the Bugs Bunny-ing he was going to get up to in the near future. And the future starts today! Welcome to Chapter 2 of_ Sweet Nothingness _, picking up where we left off with our despicable Author and his fourteen woefully unprepared victims._

"AHH!" Demyx screamed girlishly, "Axel, quick, kill it with fire!"

Axel, who had backpedaled away from the door to open some proper chakram-throwing space, countered, "Authors aren't like Freddy, they're like Jason. You have to kill them with water! So get to it, Dem!"

" _What?!_ No way," Demyx protested.

"No, wait, it's like _The_ _Exorcist_!" exclaimed Xigbar, "Quick, Vexen and Zexion, go dress up as priests! Larxene, rotate your head three-hundred-and-sixty degrees and spit green vomit in his face! Marluxia, go get some garlic!"

"Number Two, you're not remembering that movie right," said Zexion, "And garlic is for vampires, not demons. And he's not even possessing anyone."

"And I would _never_ grow that putrid-smelling bulb in my garden," added Marluxia with a huff.

"He's possessing our universe!" cried out Xigbar, "That's what a Self-Insert is! A demonic possession of canon!"

"What about cannons?" asked Roxas, who was having a really hard time following what was going on.

Skaz had finished his apple by now and chucked the core into a conveniently nearby Trashcan of Oblivion, and then pulled a Faygo Moon Mist out of nowhere and quaffed a hearty draught. He belched, and said, "Y'all being racist as shit right now, you know that?"

"A Self-Insert is not akin to demonic possession," said Zexion.

"They're more like cancer, in need of being cut out," agreed Lexaeus, raising his Skysplitter.

"Must we resort to violence?" asked Skaz, "Can we not learn to get along and live in chaos and discord?" Fourteen Nobodies readied their weapons in response. "Alright, have it your way…but I must warn you, I brought minions of my own to this soiree."

Reaching behind his back, he produced a mason jar full of gray goop. "Uh…wuzzat?" asked Xigbar, who had a bad feeling about the goop. A purely intellectual bad feeling, that is.

"It's a jar full of Abstract," replied Skaz with a devilish grin that made the one secretly genuinely emotional person in the Organization (hint, his name rhymes with Sock's Ass) shiver involuntarily.

"What's Abstract?" asked Sock's–I mean, Roxas.

"An adjective describing something as being only loosely defined or open to interpretation," said Vexen immediately.

"It can also be a noun, synonymous with summary or outline," added Zexion.

"Or a verb, meaning to reduce a subject to its simplest description," contributed Lexaeus.

"Wait, how many letters are in 'abstract'?" asked Xaldin.

"Um…eight?" replied Zexion.

"So _that_ was the answer to 14 Down in last week's crossword!" exclaimed the Whirlwind Lancer.

"Under any other circumstance you'd all be right," said Skaz, drumming his fingers on the lid of his jar, "But in this case, you're all wrong. Except Xaldin. The Abstract, with a capital A, is the primordial ooze of storytelling, and it is the manipulation of this substance that gives we Authors our immense and limitless powers. But to keep this story interesting, I decided I needed to put an ironclad limiter on my power, so what you see before you is not a full-fledged Self-Insert. I am, in fact, one step below a True Self-Insert. I'm actually an Author Avatar. That's why this story is written in a third-person narrative; I'm acting as if I were an actual character in this story, while my true self is acting as the narrator. To do this, I had to relinquish my own ability to manipulate the Abstract. Instead, I'll be using these jars of Distilled Essence of Abstract as proxy weapons. Succinctly put, releasing the Abstract from these specially designed and enchanted containment cells–"

"You mean mason jars," Marluxia pointed out drolly.

" _Magical containment cells._ Upon release, the Abstract will become an Anybody. Which is to say, it will absorb vibrations from the polydimensional morphic resonation field of the omniverse to take on the form and attributes of a randomly selected entity."

"So in other words, an Anybody could literally be _anybody_?" asked Vexen, the only person who had completely understood Skaz's inane Star Trek quality techno-babble.

"Yessir."

"Like, you could get anything from a Magikarp to Superman?" asked Xigbar.

"More or less, yeah."

"You're using what is essentially a game of chance as your primary means of self-defense?" asked Xemnas.

"Yeppers."

Everyone was silent for a moment as they absorbed this knowledge and pondered what it could mean about this strange invader. Most of them silently reached the not-completely-baseless conclusion that he was totally out of his gourd. Luxord, however, was the first to break the silence by saying, "I like the cut of this man's jib."

"I am a Discordian, after all. Chaos is about the only thing I have any faith in," explained Skaz. "So take this as your last warning; accept my totally benign desire to hang with you peeps, or we play the ultimate gamble with this here jar– _magical containment cell_ , I mean."

"Assuming that he's telling the truth, the odds that the Abstract will yield anything powerful enough to defeat the fourteen of us all at the same time are astronomical," said Saïx confidently.

"Oh please," said Skaz with an eye roll, "I can name fifty people strong enough to TPK you guys just off the top of my head."

"TPK?" asked Xemnas.

"That'd be a Total Party Kill, boss man," explained Xigbar.

Xemnas seemed to think it over, and then he asked, "Number Seven, what exactly are the odds of him getting an Anybody powerful enough to pose a significant threat to us collectively?"

"Roughly 1 in 7,458,275,945,368.7777777777777772," replied Saïx after several seconds of intense thought, and me punching in more-or-less-random numbers on the keyboard. Shh.

"I like those odds," commented Luxord.

"You'd like those odds even if they were _yours_ ," put in Xaldin.

"He's not wrong," Luxord admitted.

"In that case," said Xemnas, "Organization XIII…ATTACK!"

"You made me do this!" Skaz wailed as he popped the top off of his magical mason jar and up-ended it. The Abstract, apparently much less viscous than it appeared, quickly slipped out and splattered all over the floor. The Organization halted in mid-charge and stared at the bubbling visceral goop for a moment, each of them wondering what it could possibly yield and all of them hoping it would be something within their league. Then the Abstract began swelling up, contorting into shape and bubbling all over in a vaguely humanoid form. Then, from nowhere, a jazzy-sounding, low-key and simple but very catchy piano piece started up as the goo began melting away. First, a wide-brimmed red fedora appeared; then a pale, bishounen face with amber-tinted sunglasses, and then a red coat became visible. Those in the Organization who kept up on their seinen anime felt very strong 'memories' of dread rising up within them as the last of the Abstract faded away from the newcomer's boots.

"Oh, come _on_. Really?" asked Larxene, "We get _Goddamn Alucard_ right out of the gate?"

"Hold on," said Marluxia, "We might be in luck. He said an Anybody acquires the attributes of the entity it emulates; andAlucard only obeys the orders of his mistress, Sir Integra–"

"Now see, that's where I'm gonna have to stop you," cut in Alucard, speaking not in the dry-ice-cool and smexy voice of Crispin Freeman, but rather the possibly more bodacious voice of Curtis "Takahata101" Arnott, "See…I would be the Abridged version of Alucard, so…y'all gonna get _fucked up_." Then he spilt open a slasher grin and began laughing maniacally. "But hey, I'm a fair guy; you plucky bastards deserve a handicap. So…I'll give you all one free shot. See if you non-existent wimps can blow me away," he said magnanimously, spreading his arms out wide.

Saïx turned to Xemnas, "Shall we go all-out, Superior?"

"Yes, all-out will do," agreed Xemnas. He raised his hand, "Organization XIII, here are your orders: NO HOLDS BARRED! RELEASE YOUR FINAL LIMIT BREAKS!" he roared as he swung his hand down. Simultaneously the entire Organization, himself included, were bombarded by lasers beams that did _just_ enough damage to let them all use their respective Limit Breaks.

" _EVENT HORIZON!_ " Roxas and Xion shouted in tandem; they took turns, first Roxas wielding the Keyblade and slashing away at Alucard while Xion repeatedly blasted him with pillars of light, and then they switched places.

"VOLTIC RUSH!" screamed Larxene, coating herself in lightning and rapidly assaulting Alucard with light-speed slashes.

"BLOOM-OUT!" cried out Marluxia, charging up a black ring around himself before teleporting behind Alucard and quickly tearing him to pieces with Graceful Dahlia.

"JACKPOT!" announced Luxord. Unfortunately he got the crosses and both of his cards blew up in his face. "Ah, bugger," he lamented.

"WAVE GIGS!", "EXPLOSION!", "BERSERK!" hollered Demyx, Axel, and Saïx respectively.

"METEOR MIRAGE!", "AYERS ROCK!", "DIAMOND DUST!" added Zexion, Lexaeus, and Vexen.

Xaldin released his "DRAGOON STORM!" and Xigbar used his "CRITICAL SNIPE!"

" _ **ALL-VANITY!**_ " bellowed Xemnas so loudly and hammishly that he almost drowned out everyone else's shouts. He aimed both of his laser blasts into the Vampire King's body.

Altogether it was an impressive display of power. Unfortunately, since they all used their Limit Breaks at the same time, those of them whose Limit Break included melee attacks got caught in the crossfire. In fact, the combined energy focused on one target was so great that it backlashed and struck those whose Limit Breaks where wholly ranged attacks as well. All except for Xemnas, who was protected by his barrier.

When it was over, Marluxia dragged Larxene away from the steaming puddle that was all that remained of Alucard. The Graceful Assassin shook his head at Xemnas's smug expression. "It's no use, Superior. This one cannot be defeated by mere overwhelming force." Xemnas raised an eyebrow at this statement, finding such a thing hard to believe.

Then the Ominous Latin Chanting started up, and from out of his steaming puddle arose the Vampire King, rapidly reconstructing himself from shadowy matter. "Well, that was exhilarating," said Alucard as soon as he had a mouth to speak with, "I can't even remember the last time I've had my shit wrecked that thoroughly. But now," he drew Casull and Jackal from within his coat, "It's _my_ turn~"

And on that day, at that moment, fourteen Nobodies collectively shit bricks.

"So…no hard feelings, right?" asked Skaz as he tended to the injuries of his unwilling hosts. The Alucard-Anybody had long since faded back into the immaterial Abstract, the entire Organization was laid up in the infirmary with multiple gunshot wounds, and Skaz was wearing a nurse outfit. Not the kind that real-live nurses wear, but the sexy Halloween-costume variety that nurses used to wear. Why would a proudly masculine man dress this way, you ask? Because it's funny, and because fuck societal definitions of gender-appropriate garb, that's why. But anyways, yeah, they were all messed up pretty bad. Basically the only reason they were still alive was because they all had Plot Armor. "I mean, it was strictly self-defense, you know?" Skaz continued.

"As soon as we recover, we _will_ oust you from our domain," said Xemnas solemnly.

"Oh come on! Trust me, you guys, we're all going to have _loads_ of fun together. It's gonna be _awesome_!" Skaz promised with a cheerful, slightly psychotic-looking smile.


End file.
